


Care

by oponn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-09 05:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12881295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oponn/pseuds/oponn
Summary: Karen Page is willing to take any tip, any sighting or any scrap of information on Frank Castle after his latest disappearance. When a surprising source provides her with a credible lead, Karen finds herself hunting down someone different from the person she'd come to know - someone who is more afraid of what he wants than what many think he deserves.





	1. The Tip

Karen Page shifted on the cold wooden slats of her bench and checked her watch. 

Sighing, she tried not to glance around nervously. The email she'd received that morning said explicitly 3:30PM and now it was 3:42 and no one had shown. The park was the central hub of a residential neighbourhood and was packed with screaming and laughing children, parents chatting and strollers parked haphazardly everywhere. The pool was closed for the winter. 

All in all, a strange place to meet someone who had wanted to talk about Frank Castle. 

A pre-teen girl with long, strawberry blond hair approached the bench and sat at the other end, dropping her bag beside her and pulling out a smart phone. Karen's heart picked up and her mind raced – this girl needed to go. She couldn't be here for whomever might be coming to talk to Karen, her presence could put her in danger. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Karen chewed her bottom lip and took a sideways glance at the girl. 

Should she move? The email had said this bench under no uncertain terms. 

"Excuse me," Karen said before she could stop herself. The girl looked up, only mildly interested. 

"I'm actually waiting for a friend. We sit at this bench every week...so...," Karen began and trailed off as they looked at each other. The girl didn't look at all convinced or surprised and she sighed and tossed her phone into a pocket on the bag beside her. 

"Really? Because I told you to come alone," She said and fixed Karen with a stony gaze that felt creepily familiar with how pointed and terse it was. Karen's mouth opened slightly and her throat made a trailing noise of confusion. The girl rolled her eyes slightly and turned to face forward, pulling out her phone again and looking down. 

Karen still stared, her mind going in a bazillion different directions. 

" _You_ want to talk about Frank?" Karen asked and the girl sighed as she looked forwards. 

"You're gonna give us away sitting facing me like that," She replied instead and Karen hastily faced forward, smoothing her hands over the lap of her skirt and glancing around through the curtain of her hair. 

"How do you know Frank?" Karen asked again, seeing no one looking or interested in either of them. The girl was thumbing through what looked like an Instagram feed. 

"I don't know Frank. I know Pete. That's who I have to find." 

"I don't understand at all," Karen replied with annoyance. This girl spoke in a code that seemed like she expected Karen to understand everything that was being said. "You said you wanted to talk about Frank Castle." 

"Yeah, because _you_ know Frank Castle. Frank Castle is scary. He's a terrorist," The girl replied, her voice going hard over the last word and a shuttered, angry expression ghosting her face before it was gone like the shadow of a cloud. 

"You obviously don't know him at all," Karen rejected without a hint of remorse. Hearing the judgement and condemnation in the tween's voice put her hackles up. She began gathering her things. 

"Thank you for wasting my time. I hope you find your...Pete," Karen said briskly as she adjusted the tie on her coat and shouldered her purse. "Unfortunately, I have a Frank Castle to find." 

"You're not listening. _I_ want Pete but I'm not here for me. I'm here for my Dad and _he_ needs Frank," The girl reiterated and suddenly Karen found herself staring into the determined face of a fierce girl who'd been through too much. 

"Who is your Dad? Why does he need Frank? What does Frank have to do with Pete? What does Pete have to do with anything? Who _is Pete_?" Karen asked, her questions getting lower and lower in volume as she spewed them, now standing in front of the girl with her arms crossed. 

The girl rolled her eyes and said, "Aren't you a reporter? Frank IS Pete." 

Karen's frustration was making her want to claw at her eyes, so she took a deep breath and closed them for a second, sorting through the questions she had. 

"O-okay, do you have maybe a last name?" She finally asked with resignation. 

"I didn't. I only knew him as Pete but my Mom hasn't deleted him from her phone. I think she stills thinks he's going to come back to us," The girl said with a sadness that pushed the arrow of surprise and hurt deeper into Karen's chest, lifting the phone in her hand and shaking it side to side twice. Karen's heart continued to hammer and her ears rushed while her brain tripped and slipped through the girls' words.  

"...Come back to 'us'?" Karen said breathlessly as her chest squeezed painfully. Spots appeared behind her eyes and she fought the urge to suddenly sit back down on the bench. 

"Are you...are you Frank's?" Karen found herself asking with a carefully wavering voice. The girl blanched and shook her head violently and the relief that flooded through Karen allowed her to latch onto something she'd said earlier. 

"Your Dad, how does he know Frank? Why does he need him, is he in trouble?" Karen asked and the girl shook her head once and looked sad again. 

"He's not the same since he came back. He's happy to be with us again but...my Mom told her friend on the phone it was like adopting a dog that was waiting for his other owner to come get him. He's always waiting. He looks outside all the time. The house has cameras and infrared cameras and movement cameras and he's always rewinding the tapes looking for someone outside. He says he's not looking for the bad guys, he's not looking for the bad guys. I think...I think he's looking for Pete," She finished with a heavy swallow and Karen caught the briefest shine of tears in her eyes. 

"He's looking for Frank," Karen corrected idly and the girl didn't really react at all. 

"I think if Pete really needed us he'd come back. If all those bad guys are really dead like Dad said then I don't know why he doesn't. My Dad doesn't know why he doesn't." 

 _I don't know why he doesn't_ , Karen mentally echoed and found herself nodding at the girl's words. 

"Did your Dad...did he help Frank? A few months back? With the whole.... thing," Karen finished lamely, not aware of exactly what this girl knew, even if she knew a lot. Karen wasn't even completely clear on everything that happened but she had suspicions and she thought about it every time the shoulder she injured in the hotel bomb twinged with healed pain. 

The girl's right shoulder shrugged and she said, "I think so. He was dead, he got shot and then...then everything started happening and everything got really bad. And I was scared. And then Pete called, he said he'd help me. He was supposed to meet me and when someone showed up...it was my Dad," She explained and then shrugged again, looking at Karen with incredulity.  Karen's skin tingled as she recognized the story from helping Frank find Micro and started to piece together the connection.  


"What's your Dad's name?" Karen asked and the girl gave her a spearing, distrustful look. She was quiet a moment before opening her mouth and saying, "My name is Leo." 

"Is that what I tell Frank? Leo is looking for him?" 

Again, the tween rolled her eyes and now it was her turn to stand, shouldering her bag and looking Karen intently in the eyes as she brushed her own stray hair out of her face in the wind. 

"Tell _Pete_ Leo is looking for him," She corrected with a level of sass Karen worked hard not to raise her eyebrows at. The girl lit up the cellphone and Karen spied a screensaver of a family – a blond woman, a man with a quirked smile and curly brown hair, a brunette boy making a face and Leo tucked happily under the woman's chin. It was gone as soon as she unlocked the phone and started sorting through the contacts. Idly, Karen was struck with how confident and comfortable with the technology she seemed.

Finally, she stopped and turned the phone over to Karen, displaying the name " **Pete Castiglione** " in the contact name. Karen blinked and looked at the girl. 

"What if I can't find him?" She asked, almost as afraid of that outcome for herself as she was for Leo.

The girl shrugged. 

"Then I guess I keep trying," Leo answered. She plucked her phone back from Karen's fingers, flashed a close-lipped smile and then walked away, jeans brushing loudly with her strides. Karen watched her go with a slightly open mouth before glancing around again. As before, she saw no one watching and with one more glance at the pink back of the vest Leo was wearing, she turned and strode away. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! This will be posted to completion because I have already written it! We're looking at a total of 6 chapters - if you're not one for buildup the smut is in Chapter 5 - The Act! 
> 
> I'll be posting once a day for the next couple days until it's all up. Leave me your thoughts and opinions, they feed the monster.


	2. The Butcher

"No, of course I understand, thank you Mrs. Castiglione. You've been very helpful. You too," Karen finished, smiling fondly as the elderly Italian woman on the other end hung up. 

She set the receiver down and buried her face in her hands, exhaling heavily. 

Ellison knocked on the doorjamb as he pushed her office door open and allowed the din of phones ringing and fax machines screaming to float into her office. 

"You look happy," He noted sarcastically as he strode into the room and Karen sat back in her office chair with a heaving sigh. 

"When you live in absolute luxury, what's there to be stressed about?" Karen replied with an edge of sarcastic hysteria to her voice. Ellison perched on his usual spot - the back of a sofa Karen only kept for sleeping on. 

"Should you really be doing this? You got a tip off a  _kid_ ," Ellison reminded her with his usual incredulousness at her belief of Leo's story. 

"She knew too much to not know  _anything_ ," Karen argued back half-heartedly. Truth was, after a further few weeks of phone calls, old stories searched, name hits in various databases and artful phone calls hunting for any information linked to the name 'Pete Castiglione' Karen had very few leads and even fewer that had anything to do with anything that might go back to Frank. 

"There are five Pete Castiglione's here – I've ruled out two based on talking to their mothers," Karen noted with a hint of smugness and turned to look at her wall. "That leaves me with these three – one was a mysterious guy who disappeared off a jobsite after working a few months at the same time there was some sort of 'accident' no one will really tell me anything about. Pulling the news story from the time period, it's listed as a machinery accident. Doesn't sound like Frank," Karen listed as she pointed at the first bulletin. 

Ellison made a noncommittal grunt. 

"One who works as a CFO in Uptown for a technology startup – while he was eager to take me for dinner he was NOT the Pete I'm looking for. Let's see...the last guy I'm not holding my breath. I was actually just about to leave to go talk to him, his wife said he's at work today. He works at a butcher not far from here. I was going to stop for a sandwich at lunch and also see if he's Frank Castle," Karen said with a heavy tone of defeated sarcasm. 

"And what then. When do we give up and just assume he's either dead or locked away somewhere?" 

"He's neither," Karen said with conviction. 

"Would you feel it over your psycho-murderer Spidey senses?" Ellison jabbed at her with an expression of clear exasperation. Karen resisted rolling her eyes in a way that would make Leo proud. She got up from her chair and picked up her jacket and purse, putting both on. 

"Karen, I just feel like there's a lot of other good you could be doing right now that has nothing to do with a once-assumed-dead and somehow now-no-longer-at-large vigilante," Ellison said with a heavy sigh. Karen swallowed, knowing he was right. The time she'd been given had passed. She paused in the doorway, turning around to look at him with big blue eyes. 

"I promise. I'll follow up with this lead, if it doesn't go anywhere then...I'll drop it," Karen said, dragging out the final promise reluctantly. Ellison sighed heavily and shook his head to himself before saying, "You promise to drop it while you're at  _work_. I know you. If you have to ladle soup into the gullet of every homeless person in this city, you'll find him. I don't think your relationship with him is healthy," Ellison all but complained and Karen's cheeks pinked. They looked at each other for a moment before he waved his hand dismissively at her and said, "Go. Enjoy the extra pickles on your sandwich." 

She smiled that he remembered that particular thing about her and left without any further prompting, darting through the bullpit and piling into the elevator with 15 other rumpled and stressed people. 

Outside was the typical day – the sun was shining and it was painfully bright but the wind was still bitterly cold and soaked through clothes like nothing. As Karen joined the flow on the sidewalks she disappeared into streams of bundled people with pink cheeks, moving swiftly in the afternoon sun. Habitually, as she walked the 10 blocks, she checked the faces of every homeless person or beggar she passed looking for him. Instead, she saw hunger and cold and in some, anger. They regarded her as she hurried by feeling like a terrible person for not helping with anything. The walk passed without incident, save for some angrily honking taxis, and she found herself in front of a cramped, brightly lit butcher shop that advertised top notch steaks and a deal for cuts of hot meat with baked fries.

The only customer, an older looking construction worker, was leaving with a takeaway container when Karen entered the shop looking around. A man popped up from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a white towel. He looked her over once and then greeted her warmly, gesturing to the heated display and offering her lunch. Already planning on another stop on her way back to work, Karen politely declined. 

"I'm here to speak to Pete Castiglione," Karen said after he asked what else he could do to help her. The man looked at her again, brow furrowing slightly before he nodded and disappeared into the back through some plastic flaps that looked like they may have been clear at some point. She heard loud voices, the words indistinguishable but the yelling definitely male and irritated. 

Then a massive man, easily 6'5'' and approaching 300 pounds, lumbered out of the back in a black ensemble with a blood-stained white apron. He approached the counter where Karen was and put his gloved hands on top of the glass case and jerked his chin up at her as he addressed her. 

"I told you people, you got the wrong butcher. I get you might have a guy who gave this as his place of work, but he doesn't work here. If he's scamming you for mental health help, that's your problem. I don't give two shits if the military can't keep its records straight. Now get outta my shop," He grunted before turning around and starting back towards the back room. 

Taken aback, Karen gathered herself and followed him along the counters. 

"No, wait, please please, who are you referring to? I'm not with them, I'm a reporter looking for -," She all but begged and the man turned and glared down at her. 

"Who?" He demanded. Karen almost quailed under his gaze; the permanent etchings in his face indicated this mood was fairly regular. 

"I'm looking for a friend. I think he's using your name as an alias. You said other people came in here looking for him, do you know who they were?" She asked. Pete's nostrils flared as he breathed heavily and she could detect the faint whine inside his chest. 

"Your friend is using my fuckin' name? You mind telling your friend to fuck off? I got kids, I got a harebrained wife who thinks this is all manners of fucked and says I'm lying about shit now. I've had military people sniffing around my shop for the last couple weeks," He snapped, spittle appearing and remaining on his lower lip. 

"Military people, military how? Air force? Marines?" Karen asked breathlessly. 

"Desk jockeys," He grunted in reply and she nodded at him, her eyes fixing on the wall behind him as she frowned with thought. As if remembering he was there, Karen's eyes snapped back to him and she offered him a big smile when she thanked him. He didn't return the smile, nor wish her a good day, as he grunted and slapped the plastic aside to trundle into the back again. 

Karen sighed heavily, raking her hand through her hair. When the other man returned, she offered him a quick thank you and hurried back out onto the street. 

\------

"And this is based here? Not on a military base?" 

"Yes ma'am," The tiny voice on the other end of the phone answered. Karen chewed on the lid of her pen excitedly. 

"Is there a vetting process? Is there any reason to check out people's homes or workplaces before they're enrolled for...any reason?" She asked innocently and waited with one eye squinted as the heavy silence on the other end of the phone held. 

"Ma'am, if you're worried about the acceptance program, I can send you a link for..."

"No, thank-you. I have, uh, my brother. His shop has recently been harassed by military, you know, people for the last couple of weeks. They say they were checking out a vet with the same name," Karen tried and the voice on the other end remained apathetic and robotic. 

"I cannot share any personal information, including names of vets in our programs, with the public," It said with a hint of annoyance. Karen nodded to herself and opened her mouth to press it further and then thought better of it. 

"Thanks. I'll just google from here," Karen said finally and the voice on the other end bid her a goodnight and disconnected. She looked at the name of the program run in-city she had written down and pulled up her computer screen. 

Copying the program name into the search bar, she clicked on the first link that popped up. 

"Sharing your story with others may help you feel more comfortable talking about your trauma. Or it may help to listen to other people talk about their experiences..." She read aloud to herself, trailing off as she scrolled to the bottom and the picture of the man who ran the support group showed up. 

Her blood seemed to pulse with electricity as her brain groggily recognized the man with serious eyes and a generous mouth in his military uniform staring proudly back at her. 

"Jesus Christ," Karen breathed and shot up from her desk instantly. She was across the room, wrenching open her filing cabinets in the space of a heartbeat. 

"Cabot, Cannes....Castle," Karen read and pulled the bulging file out. She went back to her desk, opening the folder and rifling through the contents – spreading crime scene photos, reports, newspaper clippings and photos of his old house all over her desk. Finally, she found it. 

Taken somewhere in Afghanistan, a regiment of soldiers. She'd stared at this picture for so long before Frank's trial that she knew every face in it. She found the face of the man on the website, looking between the two to match them despite the different in distance, photo quality and uniform and decided that was for sure him. 

Curtis Hoyle. He served with Frank and now he ran a support group that somehow had an alias of Frank's tied to it. Karen slammed her hands on her desk three times loudly, hissing to herself in triumph. She collapsed back into her chair and held her hands over her face as a smile bled across it. 

"I found you Frank!" Karen crowed to the empty office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we'll see Frank next chapter!
> 
> Until tomorrow and, as usual, gimme dem thoughts. :)


	3. The Meeting

It was cold down here but also extremely quiet. The building was mostly abandoned save for the side entrance to the basement, which had been lit and unlocked. 

There was a scattering of beaten but maintained vehicles huddled in the parking lot, so Karen assumed the meeting was well underway. As she followed the cement steps downwards, she noted that same smell that permeated schools and administrative buildings – paper and dusty heating systems – mixed with the stoic smell of cinder block and moisture. 

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she listened and heard the floating words of a baritone from the hall to her right. Continuing that way, she rounded a corner and spied two wooden doors thrown wide open with lots of fluorescent light pouring into the dimly lit hall. Karen could smell the acrid scent of Nabob coffee. 

"When did it happen?" She could hear a calm, velvet voice asking from within the room. 

"Three months. Three months after I got back," Another man's voice, choked with tears, replied. Karen heard a shaky exhale and a stifled sob before he continued, "She never told me she had cancer. She didn't want to distract me while I was in a combat zone." 

Karen held her hand over her mouth, pressing her back against the cinderblock wall. Her heart broke for this man, who'd obviously lost his wife or mother or something. Suddenly, she regretted being here. These stories these men were exchanging were personal and close to their hearts and they were all supposedly men who didn't _want_ or have anyone else to talk to. Her original plan had been to walk by and see if Frank was inside but the hall ended not far from the room and she felt glaringly out of place in this basement. A female who had never been in any war that wasn't waged on the streets of Hell's Kitchen didn't belong with a group of ex-military who'd seen active combat. 

"So now you're feeling guilt for feeling for this new woman, this Anita?" The same voice asked, melodic and reassuring. Karen surmised this was Hoyle and enjoyed the gentle tone that belied no judgement. 

"She's not Janet and I feel like I'm betraying Janet because of her," The other man answered bluntly, the tears in his voice either swallowed or wiped and leaving a ragged score behind it. 

"You're worried you're replacing her with Anita," Another man interjected helpfully and there was a round of murmuring and shifting in seats. 

"Alton's got a point, Mark. Do you feel like you're looking to replace Janet or maybe you feel like you enjoy Anita's company so much you feel like you've done so already?" Hoyle asked seriously and there was more creaking of chairs and noises. 

"I don't know," The man referred to as Mark moaned. His voice was now muffled like he'd covered his face with his hands. 

"You feel like maybe 'cause you were supposed to die and you didn't and you came back and then she died like...you can't ever be happy again because it's an insult to her. To everything she did for you. Now she don't get to enjoy life but you do. Wasn't supposed to be like that," A rough, volatile voice suddenly said and the rest of the chatter died down into a still silence. Karen's blood pulsed with electricity as she heard Frank's wood chipper tone and knew for sure he was in there. Then her chest started to constrict because his words started to sink in – he understood this man so painfully well that Karen's skin erupted in goosebumps. 

"Survivor's guilt," Another voice chimed in, sounding like an older man who was nodding and agreement. 

"It's different with your men. We all know the risk of going in, we all know what we're heading towards. We all know dying is an option. It's not the same at home, they're supposed to be safe. You sacrificed and she sacrificed and you feel like she's the only one who paid the true price," Hoyle summarized with a grave type of understanding. 

There was a long silence before Mark sighed and said, "If there aren't any other words, that's probably it, yeah." 

Karen was finding it hard to breathe. Her instincts started screaming at her to leave so she turned and walked as quickly and as quietly back up the hall as she could. The farther away she got the faster she moved until Karen found herself running up the last set of stairs and bursting through the doors into the cold night air with a barely suppressed sob. 

The chill in the air marked the power of winter still and she could just smell ice and the basement on her clothes. She couldn't decide if the goosebumps itching her jeaned legs were from the temperature change or the fact that she was hot, red in the face and shocked. Her brain played back, all the way back, to her conversation with Frank in her apartment. 

_What about after?_

She could tell when she'd said it they both had heard, " _What about us_ _?_ " 

Her mind was going a million miles a minute. She gulped down air and pressed her hands on the side of her head, trying to think furiously but clearly. Now was after, wasn't it? When was after? When all the men he wanted dead were? 

A bubble of frustrated despair welled up in her chest – Frank could want any person dead for any reason in any amount of time. Anything she said could be the end of someone's life around him, there was no middle ground and Karen still didn't know how she felt being complicit in that. 

Sure, some of them deserved it. But the people who loved them didn't deserve the grief, did they? They still had a justice system, even if it was a shambling wreck of what it was imagined to be. Humans made innovation and mockery out of everything, why should prosecution be any different? 

But that didn't forgive _murder_ and that's what Frank represented - he was New York's finest killer, the swiftest and most reliable form of irreparable justice. Karen found herself wanting that to stop completely but also, aware that sometimes...sometimes people needed to be put down if they couldn't be talked down. 

She just wished it didn't have to be Frank. She wished that she didn't want to absolve him of all the evil in his soul, to shield him from any further injustices done to him. But when things got dangerous, when that bone-chilling fear of death that was becoming all-to-familiar creeped in, her first plea was to him. She could handle anything as long as she had Frank by her side, she could process any situation. The last time she'd been held flush against the body of someone threatening to kill her, she'd looked into Frank's eyes and known no fear. She'd seen his fear, she'd seen his resolve and knew that they were going to get out of it, it was just going to be hard. He was more erratic and volatile when it came to her and that showed by him walking into that kitchen, half-destroyed and unarmed to try to talk to Lewis. 

Realizing that later, after everything, had caused Karen to sit in scalding water in her bathtub and cry her soul into her hands. The only true understanding to that madness was believing it and as she carried on through life she realized she understood Frank and she'd misunderstood Matt and people like them more and more. 

Aliens and superheroes and all levels of crazy, folklore shit permeated the world but humans like Frank, humans like Matt was and probably many others she hadn't met – they fought back. They held their ground and didn't back down from any type of threat and Karen only recently came to the understanding she respected that more than she respected her faith in the justice system or inherent human goodness. 

She didn't like believing that. That made her more like Frank than she wanted. Now, however, she knew she wanted more than anything to know him and see him. She wanted to know when 'after' was for him and what exactly that looked like. Therapy was a good step, right? But the anguish over the loss of his family and his wife still left no room for him to ever move forward. 

She wiped her face hastily and retreated into the shadows surrounding the building as the doors began to open and men of various ages, races and disabilities filed out. They all looked somber but thoughtful and were quick to bid each other farewell before moving to their cars. Karen watched them leave, tires crunching gravel as they slowed, signaled and turned in their various directions to drive away. 

Finally, after she was sure everyone else had gone, the doors opened again. She was positive it was him – dark jeans, combat boots, dark leather jacket and black beanie. He'd started to grow his beard in again, but not nearly as long as the first time she'd seen him recently. He slowed as he walked away from the building, tilting his head slightly, and Karen knew he'd sensed her. Heard her breathing or felt her eyes on him, didn't matter. So, she stepped into the cone of light thrown by the outdoor lamp of the basement doors and said, "Pete?" 

He stopped fully, arms out from his sides slightly before turning around to look at her. 

His face was a scary mix of anger, blood lust and she guessed wild fear before he took in her appearance and his expression melted away into one of surprise. 

"Karen," He rumbled and she felt a hopeful but flickering smile cross her face. Her heart thumped – was he going to be mad? Was she supposed to stay away? Was he going to start yelling at her for being in danger? He chuckled slightly to himself suddenly, the smile on his face completely foreign to her. 

"Pete, huh?" He asked, looking at her with a small grin. Karen struggled not to launch into a deluge of questions and demands to know what happened, where he'd been, why he disappeared again, who Leo's Dad was to him. Instead she laughed wetly and sniffed before nodding and saying, "Pete Castiglione. You know, the butcher you listed as a place of work is really not happy with you." 

His eyebrows raised for a half second in amusement and he nodded his head silently without an explanation. He looked around, taking in all the shadows, before looking at her again. She was bowled over by the fact that he looked haunted and nervous but also hopeful. His eyes weren't angry and his lips weren't pulled into a scowl – one side was almost even partially curled into a half-smile. 

"How'd you find me, huh? I was told my identity would be iron clad." 

"I had help," Karen said evasively, crossing her arms in an unconscious comforting gesture. His eyes noted the movement and he nodded, the muscles in his jaw clenching slightly as he swallowed. Karen sighed and rolled her eyes, suddenly unable to make it painful for him. 

"Leo is looking for you," She answered him and watched his eyes go wide momentarily as he jerked his head up at her and made a 'huh' noise. He stepped closer to her, suddenly looking intense and alarmed. 

"Is she okay? Are they all okay? How'd you find them? How'd you know about them?" He demanded, his voice gruff and insistent. His steps forward invaded her space in a way that she both welcomed and was alarmed by.

"She found me, she sent me an email," Karen explained quickly as she moved away, suddenly spooked by the intensity and her eyes wide. Frank stopped, immediately making a face of frustration before stepping away and squeezing his eyes shut. 

"I'm sorry, I. I am trying to give them their lives. I'm trying to not monitor them so I don't...I don't know nothing and then you show up and you said they're looking and....look, Leo's a smart kid. Her looking for me means something," Frank explained after taking a deep breath. 

Karen tucked both her lips into her mouth briefly before letting them go and saying, "How are you such good friends with a 12-year-old?" 

He was silent, studying her. He looked serious, speculative, as his eyes roved over her and his jaw moved to once side in his mouth while he thought. His eyes only slit a small bit before he nodded to no one in particular and shifted his weight, putting his shoulders back and looking across the grounds towards the parking lot. 

"How much do you wanna know Karen?" He asked out loud, not looking at her as her eyebrows went up and she fiddled with the strap of her purse. 

"I want to know everything, Frank," She answered carefully, adding his name to the end softly. This was true, she knew in her gut. Finally, she was seeing signs of getting somewhere, understanding something further than his raw grief and loneliness. The question was what 'everything' was, how deep it went, and if 'everything' meant there would be no 'after'. For him, for her. 

He was nodding to himself and then he shifted his weight and looked at her sharply, eyes clear and piercing straight to her soul. 

"It's not going to be pretty and what you know could get you, especially you, killed. You can't repeat it, you can't write it, you can't print it. You do, and you'll kill people. You'll kill Leo, for sure. You gotta understand, Kare, I can't take risks. I can't risk any of you," He said and fixed her with a tense but oddly gentle and vulnerable look. It was the same look he'd had in the elevator after Lewis, blood caking the side of his face and metal sticking out of his arm. It was the same look on his face he'd had as he'd looked at her like if she'd died he would have followed her, like she was the most precious gem he'd ever seen and he'd just witnessed it dropped. The moment had been wrong to kiss him, but what they shared in silence between pants and the _pat-pat-pat_ of his blood on the floor had certainly felt like it had meant the same. It has felt surreal and too real at the same time, just as this moment did. 

He looked wild for a second and he clenched his mouth briefly before saying, "You might hate me by the end." 

Karen stared at him, ready to rebuke him for the assumption but the crystalline fear and sadness on his face belying the severity of what he said made her stop. She hesitated for a half second, considering if she really wanted a true reason to actually be afraid of him. 

"I can still hear the choking sounds one of the men you stabbed in the neck in the diner made," Karen stated and watched nothing on his face change. No regret or remorse, as she expected. She walked closer to him, her blue eyes meeting his inky black ones unflinchingly. 

"I still check my windows from the side before opening or shutting them. I have four locks on my door and I carry a snub-nosed pistol and that is _all_ because of you," Karen informed him as her voice raised ever so slightly and came out with more vindication. He looked away again, brooding and eager to flagellate himself. Karen licked her lips and continued, leaning closer to him. 

"I feel like if I can live like that, and survive all things I've survived, and still care enough about you to find you when you've disappeared on me more times than you've shown up...I deserve to know. I deserve to know everything and I think you deserve to tell me," She finished as she chewed on her lower lip and looked up at him nervously. It sounded like a weak accusation but landed true and heavy, just as she planned. 

Frank sighed. 

"C'mon. There's a diner we've never been shot at in about 8 blocks West of here," He announced and waited for her to match his speed before they set off walking away. 

"Is there coffee?" Karen teased and he grinned in the night air. 

"Yeah, maybe."

_________

Her coffee was long cold and the plate of fries they shared barren. 

She'd been silent, Frank having spoken non-stop for almost three hours. He went over everything – overseas, Project Cerberus, coming home and the murder of his family, flashbacks, what happened after the shack and everywhere he went, the events that unfolded with the Liebermans' and finally, he'd finished off with his story of Lewis and knowing Lewis was going to go after her. 

Her silence continued in the aftermath and she sat, wordlessly staring out the window with her left knuckles pressed against her lips. The waitress had given them a weird look when she'd come to fill Frank's coffee cup for the 8th time and noted Karen's blank state. She said nothing though, moving away with her lips pursed and the familiar expression of 'not my problem' etched on her middle-aged face. 

"Well," Karen finally said and Frank watched her over the rim of his cup as he drank. "Although I'm sure she's happy to have her husband back, you can't really blame Sarah." 

He stared at her for a moment before she quirked a smile at him and then he chuckled, shaking his head and fiddling with the coffee cup. 

"That's all you got out of that?" He asked after he finished and Karen was now smiling bemusedly at his reaction. When he'd first started telling her about the kiss, her stomach had turned into a shaking knot until he'd finished his story about his fight with David and how hard he'd had to work to express that he wasn't interested. Karen laughed and sighed, crossing her arms on the tabletop and shrugging. 

"I was wrong," She struggled out after a pause. Frank silently observed her as she considered the Formica tabletop and the faux-metallic swirls on it. She looked up at him again, wanting to convey her regret. "At the shack. I was wrong, about it all. About Schoonover, about what happened and what...what people _deserve_ ," She finished with a hint of anger on the last word. Frank shrugged. 

"You weren't there. There was no way you could be right." 

"You could have told me." 

"And put you in more danger? Nah, you're pretty good at doing that yourself," Frank teased as he lifted his coffee cup and took another large gulp. Karen snorted and they fell silent again, both looking at the tabletop of each other's hands wrapped around coffee mugs. 

"So... what now? They're all dead, it's done. Justice served. What's next?" Karen asked hesitantly. Frank's face shrugged with its eyebrows and he blinked rapidly for a few second as he drank his next sip. He finally put it down and cleared his throat. 

"I think if I knew that I wouldn't be in Curt's group chats," He grunted, wiping his mouth on a napkin. Karen nodded, remembering with unsettling clarity the advice he'd given Mark about his dead wife and new girlfriend. 

"Why did you...why didn't you see David? Or...Leo. She's torn up Frank, she's worried about her Dad," Karen told him, looking at him plaintively. Frank just regarded her, his expression shuttered. 

She tried again, "I know you're just trying to give them space to be a family or protect them from anyone looking for you but...if everyone's dead and the CIA essentially told you to fuck off...is it for them or is it for you?" 

He snorted, sitting back in his seat and sending an exasperated look out the window. She watched the muscles in his jaw flex again, almost pulsing as he exhaled noisily through his nose. 

"You wanna know why I didn't find you either," He said gruffly without looking at her. Karen took a big inhale, glancing at the ceiling as she did so and then puffed it out in response before shaking her head slightly and petulantly replying, "I guess so." 

He was quiet a long time. His walls were up, the Frank she knew retreating behind a hard mask. Finally, Karen sighed and sat up while feeling beside her for her jacket. 

"It's okay Frank. It's a lot to explain and I think I get it. I, uh, I'll let Leo know you're okay and that...that I tried. Okay?" She rushed out as she slid out of the booth and applied her jacket. He was watching her with a peculiar expression but didn't move to stop her. 

"Get what?" He challenged and Karen stopped as she buttoned up her jacket and reached for her purse. She took a steadying breath and nervously tucked her hair behind her ears. 

"That you don't know how to be close to anyone anymore without not being close to them. The Leibermans, if what you say is true – they just want to make sure you're okay. You sound like you put their family back together, it's normal for people to want to include you in it. Uncle Pete and stuff, you know? But, I get that it might be too much for you. Loving people back is scary, for you most of all," Karen explained and watched Frank's face close down and his expression go wooden. 

"I'm not blaming you Frank," She clarified as she shouldered her purse. "I just can't help you either, without you wanting it, even though I wish I could." 

They looked at each other again, everything flowing between them as they locked eyes. Karen felt her eyes start to burn with tears and she laughed through a hasty smile. 

"You know where I live," She told him and dropped a ten dollar note on the table for her half of the bill. Gently, she touched his heavily muscled arm, hard and unmoving underneath the material of his sweater and then turned and left the diner. She felt his eyes boring holes into her back every step of the way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapters are getting longer. 
> 
> YAAAY FRANK! Please note this is tagged angst AND fluff AND smut. So like, do with that what you will but that explains why I'm dragging this out. ;) 
> 
> As always, chat to me!


	4. The Threat

"You still carry your pistol?" Ellison asked as they both sat in the back of a black town car on their way to Karen's apartment. 

"Not in this dress," Karen snorted inelegantly and looked down at the plunging, sparkly neckline. Her sternum was exposed and the dress had been taped in place to not expose her nipples. Even in the dark the material glittered like a thousand stars. 

"I think you should consider it since you've turned down a security detail," Ellison admonished with a worried, fatherly expression on his pink-cheeked face. Both of them had had many glasses of fine champagne at the Gala they'd attended to raise money for families killed by an on-the-rise mob boss named Nicolas Cavella. _The Bulletin_ and both Ellison, Karen and Marco Jepp had all been sent rather elaborate death threats from the syndicate – shut your print up or be shut up. 

Instead, Karen had put on a dress that resembled the galaxy and gotten up in front of New York's wealthiest elite and pledged that New York and all its inhabitants would never bow again to being controlled by petty mobs and their spray-and-pray tactics. Then, to calm her jittery nerves afterward, she'd picked up every flute of champagne offered to her and downed it. Together she and Ellison had hob-knobbed with everyone interested and raised, in Karen's opinion, a gross amount of money for the one single cause. Especially because she was very sure the majority of people in that room had some sort of monetized connection to Cavella anyway. 

"Unless I'm wearing borrowed dress worth thousands of dollars, it's generally on my person. My apartment is unlisted, there's bolts after chains on the door and I have a gun. I will be perfectly _fine_ , I swear. Honestly, with the way the man operates I'd be more worried if I had a car. He likes his ignition bombs," Karen noted with a well-deserved hint of disgust. Ellison drummed his fingers on his knee and drank the rest of the whiskey he had in a snifter for the ride. Karen had turned it down, whiskey never failed to give her heartburn. Ellison sighed and smacked his lips before putting the snifter back and looking at her sharply as the car pulled over and came to a stop. Rain drummed heavily on the roof and Karen wiggled in her seat to draw her trench coat closed. 

"Seriously, Karen. You even notice a car on your street too long that's new, call and have the security team come down. They can do perimeter and hall guard, there's no need to be in your apartment once it's secure," He tried again and Karen sighed loudly and looked at him pointedly. 

"I think I will be okay," She reiterated clearly. Ellison pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose in annoyance, nostrils flaring. 

"That's what you say every time and then you disappear for a few days and the cops come to me looking for info on where you could have gone," He complained and Karen smiled fondly at him, placing her hand reassuringly on his forearm and patting it. 

"And every time, you don't know," She replied and he narrowed his eyes at her, unamused. 

"Just because I don't tell them you're most likely with an armed vigilante doesn't mean I approve of you doing it," Ellison sniped at her before covering her hand with his own warm, slightly calloused one. He looked at her again. 

"I'm serious, you have to be careful. One day your luck is going to run out and instead of scratched up and breathless I'll find you in the hospital or...identifying your body in the morgue. Speaking of which, got any tattoos I should know about?" 

Karen scoffed, rolling her eyes and scooping her jeweled clutch to her chest as she scooted to the door and opened it, letting in the hiss and splash of the rain as she got out. She leaned back down and called back into the car, "I've got one on my lower back that says, _'Ellison Told Me So_ '." 

He finished refilling his snifter and toasted her with it. 

"See you on Monday, dirty birdy. Home, Jeeves!" Ellison hollered to the driver. 

Karen laughed, clomping the door shut and waving both to Ellison through the tint and again to the hired driver, Ian, before she sorted her keys on the stoop and let herself into her building.  The hallway had been recently cleaned and still faintly smelled of Pine-Sol and Karen smiled as she waited for the elevator. Despite the brevity of the situation, the Gala _had_ been fun. The doors on the elevator dinged open and she got on, punching her floor and looking at herself in the mirror. Her trench coat was wet, darkness spattering down from her shoulders and when she opened the coat to look at the dress, it still shimmered and glinted in the shitty elevator light. 

"Damn, Karen," She told herself jokingly, forgiving the now-limp curls that had dampened in the rain and turning to admire the swell of her butt under the silky, metallic material. Satisfied, she faced front and the doors opened to reveal an empty hallway. She walked down it, her door on the far end beside a window that was thankfully painted shut. In the summer it was hell, but she was thankful for it the rest of the year.  As usual, the majority of the living noise was drowned out by the muffled blaring of her deaf neighbour's TV – so loud it eclipsed basically any and all other noise. Thankfully, Karen relied on the noise of a busy city to feel safe; someone was always awake and that made her feel just a little safer. 

She unlocked her apartment and turned the lights on before entering, putting her hand in the bowl on the hall table just inside the door and drawing the gun out of its hiding spot under some silk scarves. She entered, kicking the door shut behind her and made a quick pass over the general area – kitchen, dining, living room. Nothing. 

A feeling of ridiculousness settling in and perhaps feeling spooked because of Ellison's begging, she sighed and put the gun on the coffee table before tossing her clutch on the sofa and shrugging out of the wet jacket. It got draped over the back of a chair as she padded by to lean on the wall dividing the kitchen from the hallway to take her shoes off. One heel clattered, and the second had just hit the floor when a cold, gloved hand clapped down on the back of her neck, causing Karen to jump and gasp. 

It didn't wait and before she had time to process, she was shoved roughly forwards and careened with a shriek onto the floor of her kitchen, banging off the front of the fridge. Her elbows smarted and burned where they'd taken the brunt of her fall and Karen immediately tried getting on her knees to crawl forward but the slippery length of her dress prevented it. Hands grabbed her right upper arm from behind, dragging her body upwards and Karen shrieked again and tried to turn and jam the heel of her palm under her attacker's nose. Instead, her swipe was batted down and a heavy backhand to the side of her face made her cry out and stars erupt in her eyes. A mask of pain settled over her face and then doubled on the other side as the blow was repeated from the other angle. Stumbling, Karen covered her face and then blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes of tears and spots of colour. He'd blocked her way out of the kitchen and was leaning to grab a knife out of the knife block she had on her counter. 

"This is the wrong thing, this is a mistake," Karen gasped out raggedly, hand still holding the right side of her face. He was big, wearing all black and a black ski mask. Watery, pale eyes looked back at her from the eye holes and they offered no remorse or mercy and Karen started to panic as his hand wrapped around a carving knife and pulled it out. 

Karen reacted and threw herself over the counter, rolling through the peek-through from the kitchen into the dining area, landing heavily on the floor. Items from the counter cascaded everywhere and crashed around her. She writhed momentarily with the breath knocked out of her before flipping over and trying to suck in air as she staggered to her feet. The man came around the corner, facing her with the knife in his hand. She was now limited to the living room and dining room. He made three quick steps towards her and Karen grabbed the dining room table, giving it a shove and sending it loudly across the wood floor to block him. 

He shoved it out of his way as Karen hiked the dress up and ran between the couches, kicking the wooden side table at him while he followed her. She lunged, snatching the gun off the coffee table and landing on her back. She sat up, planted both hands, leveled the gun as the man loomed over her and squeezed. 

 _Click_. _Click_.

"No!" Karen moaned. 

"Oh yes," The masked man replied as he moved over her. Karen shuffled back, kicking her legs and letting out a terrified yell. He grabbed one of her ankles and dragged her to him, hauling roughly on her leg as Karen struggled and her damp palms screamed along the wood floor while she was dragged.  

The shadow behind the attacker moved and Karen watched as in the space of a second, another set of hands wrapped around the man's neck and cradled his jaw before wrenching brutally sideways, the muffled crunch of vertebrae deafening to Karen's ears. She choked in shock as the man, cruel eyes still open, crumpled into a heap. 

Silence descended, punctured by the panicked gasping from Karen as she stared at the man on the floor. Finally, she blinked owlishly and looked at the next man standing over her, finding him looking at her with concern and his hand outstretched. Idly, she noted that she'd started to shake. 

"F-Frank?" She gasped and he didn't answer as she put her hand into his and he pulled her to her feet, stepping over the body to move into her personal space. He nabbed her jaw with some gentle fingers and was tilting her head, inspecting whatever wounds were there. Karen stared at the dead man from the corners of her eyes before looking at Frank. His face was serious, tumultuously foreboding as he gently probed the swell on the right side of her temple. She winced slightly, tender and confused. He looked at her, finality on his face. 

"You're coming with me," He told her flatly and then moved out of her personal space to turn and disappear into her bedroom. Karen stood there, brain flatlined and just looking around her now destroyed apartment. Finally, she started to find her thought process. 

"What are you doing here? You killed him. Oh god, Frank. What -" She called weakly as she started to move, stepping gingerly over the now-corpse on her living room floor. She'd have to call the cops and tell them. Again. 

Ellison would play 'I-told-you-so' for years but in this moment, Karen found she didn't care. Somehow, in what was becoming a scarily regular pattern, Frank had been there and she had lived. She now realized anyone who thought to hurt her was essentially entering a life or death scenario they weren't prepared for. And so far, it was always Karen who won the 'life' roll – because of Frank. 

He came back out of her room, one of his duffels slung over his back and picked up her jacket. He tossed it to her and Karen caught it robotically, frowning. Her eyes kept getting pulled back to the dead man, glad he was dead and upset she was glad at the same time. A single, high tone was also sounding in her head that was making it difficult to think. 

"I have to get clothes, I can't wear this."   
"I have your clothes."    
"How could you know what clothes I need?" Karen demanded with confusion. He looked at her, eyes searching for something before coming to a conclusion and answering. 

"I had a wife and daughter once, remember?" 

Her face fell and Karen immediately felt like a terrible person but he gestured for her to follow and she shrugged back into her jacket, tying it limply before going to the hall where Frank handed her a pair of her own hiking boots. 

Her eyebrows went up.

"Hiking boots?" 

"No galoshes, you wanna go in the rain in your fancy heels be my guest," He answered her bluntly and Karen found herself seeing the reason in that and bending down to put her naked feet into them. 

"I can't wear these without socks for very long," She announced for no particular reason and Frank let out a short, barking laugh as he opened the door and checked the hallway. When he caught her expression of confusion he just gave her a warm look and said, "Come on, you've got phone calls to make."    
   
Karen made a face at him in response and followed him out of the apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm being a tad cliche but we're all fans here so this is a safe space, okay? 
> 
> Almost to the good stuff, get excited! Thank you so much to all the people commenting and giving me their thoughts, it means the world. :)


	5. The Act

"I don't know why I'm surprised it's so small," Karen remarked, turning in a circle and taking in all the bare walls, dank with moisture stains. The cramped bed hunched in the corner, the half-sized kitchen appliances and random sink indicating the bathroom area. No shower or tub, just a toilet she would not be using without a door. 

All in one room, in a sketchy building, underneath a train bridge. The walls still vibrated with the coursing of the tracks as the cars moved over it. 

"Not exactly home as much as it is a hole," Frank grunted noncommittally. He dropped the duffel bag on the bed and looked at her, suddenly uncertain. Karen looked back at him, smoothing the wrinkles out of the jacket she'd draped over the back of one of the ratty chairs around his tiny table nervously. She watched his eyes take in her face with a measure of reserved anger before it melted away into...a blank sort of appreciation as his gaze traversed her body. Suddenly she remembered the dress she was wearing was the slipperiest, sparkly material and left none of the curves of her body to the imagination. 

Suddenly, he seemed to come back from somewhere and he inhaled sharply and said, "There's a 24-hour next door. Just gonna get some coffee. You want any?" 

"Uh...sure," Karen guessed, assuming the comfort of a hot beverage would be some solace. The shaking had only just died down into occasional trembles. He lifted his chin, indicating the duffel bag on the bed. 

"There's a change of clothes in there." 

"Oh, uh, thank-you," Karen stammered out after glancing down at herself again and unconsciously wrapping her now bare arms around her torso. 

Frank stopped in the door as he was leaving, throwing her a furtive glance she thought may have looked a tad guilty or something else before he quietly said, "Dress looks nice." 

Then he was gone, the locks in the door closing behind him and leaving Karen alone.  She thought the concept would terrify her but despite the fact that she was again alone, she was in Frank Castle's apartment. As crappy as it was, it was possibly the safest place in the world for her to be. 

She found herself opening the duffel and finding that Frank indeed did have a solid understanding of women's assemblage – she found a wad of underwear that had obviously been handfulled at random, a few bras that had also been tossed in, some of her softest shirts, a work blouse, a pair of slacks, some old flats she had lying around her room and a pair of soft sweatpants. And a random cardigan that went with absolutely nothing. Karen found herself standing there with a dumb smile on her face as she went through what he'd thrown together for her. 

Finding appropriate attire, she shirked out of the gown and danced into some new underwear, bra and her sweat attire. Thankfully, she found three rolls of socks hastily stuffed into one of the side pockets and was able to put her ice cold, clammy feet into warm wool. From there, everything was stuffed back in the duffel bag and Karen found herself at Frank's sink. 

A large purple bruise was forming all along the right side of her face and she found when she flexed her jaw it ached. There was a cut on her forehead she hadn't felt at all that had bled rivets all over her face, now dried and cracked. A swelling under her opposite eye told of where the other blow had landed and the look was completed by one of her false eyelashes missing and mascara down her cheeks. 

All in all, she looked worse than she felt at the moment and she decided then was the time to use the washcloth on the hanger. Carefully, she scrubbed her face free of makeup, tears, blood and what looked somehow like pen ink; by the end she looked cleaner but also somehow worse for wear around the forehead and temple areas. 

"At least your eyes aren't swollen shut," Karen told herself as she examined her skin. Defeated, she left the used washcloth to dry off the side of the sink. The rain could be heard outside and the apartment's lights were so dim the majority of the illumination was orange from the street light directly outside his window. Feeling like she was suddenly being watched from behind, Karen glanced and saw nothing but wall. 

Images of the man's gleeful, angry eyes flit through her brain and Karen struggled with the fact that it had been him or her and he was more than willing to choose her. At the same time, she hadn't hesitated even without Frank there to intervene. If he hadn't found and emptied the gun, she would have plugged him twice in the chest and become a two-time murderer. Against people who sought to kill her, but twice. How many people were walking around New York that _weren't_ Frank that had killed two people?

Karen sniffed, willing herself not to cry. 

Being honest with herself, the number was probably higher than she thought possible and that didn't help with the queasy, suddenly angry helplessness that flooded her.  When did it end? Where was the line between good people and bad? Was it some humans' nature or an action committed in their life? When it's unacceptable to kill someone for revenge after a slight but acceptable to kill them in the moment under the guise of self-defense, how does that move the goalpost for not going to jail over the dead guy in her apartment – yet again? How was any of this her fault when she was merely a target that wasn't as easy as presumed? She just happened to be a walking death warrant to anyone who thought to hurt her and it got harder with every passing day to be resentful of that with the way her life was unfolding. 

Karen had never wanted to hide from who she was until she no longer was the person she wanted to be. She wasn't sure when or how it started happening but now that she'd noticed it felt like it was too late. Idealism was dangerous. She'd likely be a danger to everyone around her unless she lived in a hut in the woods and unbidden, the shack floated through her mind and Karen laughed angrily to herself. The sheer hilarity of how her thoughts naturally followed a less murderous but similar pattern to Frank's made her feel like a car on black ice. The laugh turned into a growl of frustration and before she knew it, she'd kicked her foot out and sent one of Frank's ratty metal chairs onto its side, grunting with rage. The defeaning silence that followed her outburst made her immediately feel juvenile. 

"And now I'm acting like him, great!" She snapped to herself, folding her arms and pressing her fingers to her mouth as she blinked back tears. A few moments passed as she breathed deeply and calmed her thrumming heart down. As soon as the anger left, a deathly exhaustion swept through her and she suddenly felt deflated and empty, like her muscles were made of dust. 

Sighing, she righted the chair and sheepishly returned it to its spot before retreating to the cot by the window to gloomily peer out. 

 Just as she was perching herself on the bed and drawing her knees up, the locks started undoing themselves and her moment of gut-clench evaporated when he entered and barred the door after himself. 

"Hey. Feel better?" Frank questioned and Karen lifted one shoulder languidly. 

"I feel like an idiot. Everyone was right," She said sadly and sighed heavily. She kept moving to scrub her hands over her face and then wincing when coming in contact with the bruises. 

Frank grunted in response and she took that as a 'yeah'. She huffed a laugh again. 

"How am I ever going to repay you for continuing to save my life?" She asked out loud and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he popped the lid off of a paper cup and stirred sugar into it from the carry-tray he'd put on the table. 

She watched him finish with the coffee, take off his jacket and then peel off his sweater to show off a t-shirt that barely covered the entire bulk of him. Karen did her best not to stare at his skin, or the ways the muscles in his forearms bunched and flexed as he did things like doctor her coffee. 

As he approached and handed her the cup, she accepted it but tilted her head back to look at him and prompted him; "Frank?" 

He made a dad-like groan as he sat down on the bed beside her, dipping it with his weight and causing Karen to slide against him slightly. Neither of them moved, although both noticed. 

He stopped moving and sighed. She was about to say his name again when he started speaking. 

"No need. I'm only returning the favour," He said, drinking deeply from his cup. The Styrofoam cup looked miniscule between his squared fingers. He hadn't looked at her at all, even as she cocked her head and attempted to catch his eye. 

"What? Are you talking about the trial? Frank, that was...," Karen started but he shook his head twice and cut her off by leaning his head against the wall and looking at her. 

"I'm talking about most days," He said and she looked into his eyes, concern ratcheting through her. She noticed how close he was this way, both of them pressed hip-to-hip, arm-to-arm on his tiny bed. Karen searched his face for some sort of hidden meaning before slowly shaking her head. 

"I don't understand," She said in an almost whisper. He seemed to chew on the inside of his lip, looking forwards and then twisting his head back to look at her again. His eyes were sad and a different type of apprehension lurked in them. His nostrils flared slightly and she only then noticed his breathing had picked up a bit. 

"I don't know anything about anything anymore. All I knew was, revenge. Fix it, kill, kill, kill. Even coming back, when I first lost... after Maria and the kids, when it was fresh I didn't know what to do so I adapted. I had a mission again, I had a purpose. I had all that... _anger_ ," He said and his rumbling voice vibrated his chest so Karen could feel it in her arm. As he got more personal his eyes fixed on the wall across from them and the clenching of his jaw became more pronounced. Karen exhaled shakily, sensing something changing as he spoke, some sort of conclusion he'd come to. 

"I did what I did. I did what needed to be done and the anger is still there. The hurt is still there, I still wake up with Maria talkin' to me," He continued with wide, sightless eyes. Karen's heart constricted for him and she bit her lip to keep from crying. Without thinking, she turned more towards him and put her hand on the crook of his elbow, top of his forearm. His skin was warm and although the muscle was strong it wasn't tense as he sat so close to her. 

"I'm sorry," She whispered with all her heart, wishing to reach out and wrap herself around him and hold him away from everything that haunted him. He nodded his head slightly in a tight bobbing motion, eyes fixed on the wall. 

"The guilt comes because I don't worry about her anymore. I miss them worse than all hell but I don't worry. After the blood dried and the scandals went away in the news I just...I didn't even have the revenge. I didn't have anything other than that hole where they'll never be anymore," Frank explained and Karen nodded, finally getting to this part of him. He took another deep breath and she waited, for what she wasn't sure. 

"I don't want to go back to how I was when it was new. Without the revenge, without that stench in my nose, it's all just a black hole of...," He swallowed heavily and looked at her, lost for words. Karen's eyebrows came together as she looked back at him, concerned and touched at the same time. 

"Endless, echoing loneliness," She finished for him, using the words that she'd spat at him when they first reconnected after his first disappearance.   Frank didn't respond, his other hand crossing his body and roughly covering the hand she had on his arm, squeezing it tightly. As his nostrils flared and she squeezed his hand back, he jerked his head to look at her – serious, stunned, terrified all on a stoic face. 

"I can't go back if I wanted to. And I don't. When I was there I didn't want out but slowly over time I've... it's happened. You find something that makes it easier, makes it worthwhile and I thought that was revenge until it was over. Now I got nothing but questions. Business is finished, what do I do now? Kill myself?" He laughed slightly at the last bit, the attempt at dark humor falling flat with Karen. 

"Frank," Karen said warningly, attempting to pull her hand away from his to admonish him about even thinking about that but he clamped down on it and made sure she looked him in the eyes. 

"You," He said and she stopped immediately, mouth opening slightly as she searched his face questioningly. He swallowed before pushing on, "I might hear Maria when I wake up first thing but all damn day and every second I'm trying to sleep, it's you. I had rage, I had anger. I had hatred. But until I started to care for you, I didn't remember fear. I remember it now, I felt it the second I saw you in that hotel kitchen. I felt it every time I read an article you wrote, bitching out the common criminal," He explained as a crooked smile curved his mouth at the end. Karen's blood felt like it was carbonated, fizzing through her veins and created electric arcs on her skin in response to his words. Her breathing picked up, shallower and faster.  

"I need you to be safe, I need you to be alive. I need you to tell me what a psychopath I'm being because," He chuckled to himself, "you're probably the only person that will." 

Her throat clicking as she swallowed Karen asked, "That's all?" 

As they looked at each other, the same peculiar expression slid onto his face from the elevator and with thundering shock Karen realized it was affection. Relief, gratitude but also something bordering on something neither of them could bring themselves to name. Franks hand moved, slipping under hers and raising it between them. 

She watched as slowly, he moved the pad of his thumb over the bony points of her scratched knuckles and down the side before he filled her palm with his own knuckles and lifted the back of her hand to press his lips against the thin skin. He pressed one more to the back of her hand before setting it back down on his thigh, hands still intertwined but eyes glued to one another. 

Her eyes traced the thin, faded scars that graced his features. The jaw that so often had flexing muscle from his anger was relaxed and eyes that were so often full of hate and murder were soft under his thick eyebrows. With the short beard furring the lower half of his face he didn't look a soldier but the cut bordering the edge of his full lower lip spoke of violence. 

"What do you need from me?" She asked again and Frank reached out, pinching the fabric of her shirt at the collar and pulling her towards him slowly. Karen went, leaning into his personal space and his eyes looming so close they almost became one. 

"Same thing you're already doing. Care. The way... I care for you," He finished quietly, his eyes going inky black from their normal dark brown. She felt his fingers trace down her jawbone, and then gently brush the column of her neck. 

She couldn't help the watery smile that bled onto her face before she closed the remaining few inches and kissed him, gently tilting her head and melding her lips to his. His kiss on her cheek had been innocent but crucial – a baby deer entering an open field for the first time. It had let her glimpse behind the curtain but she found actually kissing him was like being picked up by a tornado. 

As he dove deeper into kissing her, sucking on her lower lip and allowing her to worry his gently with her teeth, he gathered her against him by dragging her body flush against his and wrapping his arms around her. Karen flicked her tongue against his lips and made a muffled noise of surprise as he moved her more, lifting her body fully into his lap so her thighs straddled his. Then his mouth opened and his tongue fenced with hers languidly as they kissed, Karen's hands coming up to gently cup his strong jaw. 

Frank's hands traveled, up and down her back, over her hips and stroked up and down the outsides of her thighs. The touches were reassuring and Karen found herself rocking her hips forwards prematurely as Frank made a deep, rumbling growl in his chest that caused her to shiver and kiss him painfully hard in reply. They broke apart gasping for air; a thin strand of saliva snapped back to Frank's lower lip as they looked at one another with heavily lidded eyes. His lips were darker and kiss swollen and he was looking at her with a contented daze. 

"Is this okay?" Karen murmured to him, the words falling into his mouth as he nodded and moved up to kiss her again, which she eagerly accepted. One of his questing hands slid up her neck and into her hair, fisting it and pulling at her scalp. It tugged a loud, accidental moan out of Karen that immediately resulted in Frank groaning as he arched his hips under her. 

As soon as she felt the hard ridge on the inside of her legs, the ache between her legs joined the building slickness. She had the urge to press her thighs together and only wound up grinding down on Frank, who made a breathy grunt against her collarbones as he peppered them with kisses and small nips with his lips. 

This was a fuse to a powder keg and Karen already felt completely out of control, her limbs light and head swimming as a growing need made itself known. The slide down the slippery slope had begun and soon they found themselves pawing at each other to push clothing aside and feel skin under their fingers. Karen had that tight t-shirt bunched up around his armpits with her hands soaking in the heat from his muscular chest as Frank's large paws took healthy handfuls of her ass to squeeze. They explored the panes of each other as their lips fought for dominance. He tugged her neckline down, running his lips over the swells of her cleavage cautiously. Karen sighed and lifted her chest, offering them to his face and reaching to remove one of his hands from her bottom to place it over her breast. 

Frank's eyes met hers. She was expecting to see some trepidation or guilt and instead found pure, focused lust. Her mouth fell open as he gently wiggled the globe in his palm, moving the weight around as he watched her face and then let his fingers trail into a pinch. He seized her nipple through the shirt and demi-cup, worrying it between his fingers and causing sharp pangs of pleasure to make her head fall back slightly. He smiled into her cleavage before turning his face and nestling it between her breasts as he quested deeper into her shirt. Frank was focused on one thing – her. 

Karen moaned in frustration, pulling away from him enough to unceremoniously pull her shirt off and unhook her bra, tossing both to the side as if they offended her. 

"Jesus," Frank grunted appreciatively as his eyes greedily took in her breasts. With how slim she was, her healthy c-cups often lurked unappreciated until they were bare so the exclamation was not new to her. Embarrassed, she moved to cover them with her forearms when Frank's hands grabbed them, forcing them back gently to bare her to him. His dark eyes roved and took in every detail before flicking up to hers as he leant forwards, tucking his head slightly. Karen let out a stilted moan as she felt his tongue touch her rib and then make a direct, tongue-tip line up the curve of the underside of her breast. She angled her head down to watch with blown open pupils as he crested and his hot mouth engulfed her nipple hungrily. His tongue was quick and insistent, flicking against the bud and making Karen whine and grind her hips down into his lap as retribution.   

Both her hands slid along his head threading through his hair; she tightened her fingers and pulled gently before letting go and soothing the scalp with a scratch. Karen watched goosebumps erupt on his skin and he moaned with her flesh in his mouth before letting it go with a soft _pop._  

They looked at each other for the space of a few breaths again, both breathing heavily. Karen watched a seemingly predatory smirk lift one half of Frank's mouth and she didn't have a chance to react before she found herself flipped to the side on her back, diagonal across the bed with Frank standing over her. 

"What are -" 

"You cool with this? You're not just... doin' some shit you think you should. Saving some asshole," Frank suddenly said, looking at her intensely. Karen's eyes widened and she sat up on her elbows, brow furrowing in confusion.

"What? No." 

He shrugged, the movement continuing as he reached behind his head and tugged on his shirt. The material traveled up his torso and he snapped it onto the floor after balling it up in his hands. Karen gaped, jarred by the shadows cast by the cut of his body. He was well built, fine plates of muscle plating his chest with small, dusky nipples. His stomach was taut, the faint bulge of abdominals evident as he moved in the light. He stepped towards her, one large hand gently cupping the back of her knee and pulling her closer to him until she was forced to lay on her back as he extended her leg until her calf was pressed against his chest. One hand came up and pulled off her sock before falling to lift her other leg into the same position. He plucked the second sock off and she caught the small smile again.

His hands wrapped almost completely around her calves after dwarfing her feet and ankles, gently massaging down the outside of her legs. The muscles were tense and the pressure he applied was both slightly painful and amazingly relaxing. Karen moaned as her reached the sides of her hips, her legs slightly bent against his chest. The hands began to move back up before she felt the material fisted in both his hands and then both her bottoms and underwear followed him upright. Her face flushed, cheeks flaming slightly and she couldn't help but laugh at how pleased with himself he looked as he righted himself and dropped the clothes to the side. 

Frank lifted one shoulder, his hands resuming massaging and flexing her feet. He smirked again as he said, "Been awhile, mighta lost my touch." 

"Oh, I doubt that," Karen laughed as he kissed the arch of her foot, the appendage flexing as it tickled under his lips. He kissed the inside of her ankle, fingers massaging ahead of themselves and she hummed. His lips followed wherever his fingers went and he had thoroughly inspected her foot when she cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. 

"Are you a foot guy?" 

Frank's eyebrows shot up and he stopped kissing, idly massaging as he looked down at her. 

"Just enjoyin' the view," He replied and his eyes dropped down between her knees as Karen flushed deeply. She gasped in half-mock outrage and pressed her knees together but Frank chuckled and stepped back, eyes trailing down the backs of her legs as he held her ankles together. 

"Really good over here too," He commented and she couldn't help but laugh and throw one arm over her eyes to cover half her burning face, kicking her legs weakly. Somehow, he was turning her into a blushing schoolgirl. 

She only provided minor resistance as he pried her legs apart and put one foot on each shoulder before he sank, gracefully for a man his size, onto his knees at the edge of the bed and gently bit the skin on the inside of her right knee. Karen hissed at the sharp pang and the way he soothed it with a kiss. His hands were roaming again, one massaging the handle of her hip and the other snaking up the left side of her body to gently fondle a breast. 

He was so close she could feel his breath on her core before he pressed a kiss to the softest part of her thigh. Karen's hands fisted in the bedsheets and she wanted to wiggle, push her hips further forward. The hot puff of his breath moved to her other thigh and Karen whined with anticipation. 

"No teasing," She gasped and Frank raised his head, face very serious as he looked into her eyes. 

"Yes ma'am." 

She got out the _F_ in his name as he lowered his head again, the hand on her hip abandoning it to slide across her lower abdomen to the top of her slit, applying slight pressure and pulling towards her bellybutton to lift the flesh of her mons. He kissed her outer lips, taking his time to explore the space tenderly through kissing and licking. Karen's legs spasmed and she cried out as he suddenly abandoned that tactic and his tongue dove deeper, finding the clit he'd exposed better with his other hand. His tongue made a single, broad stripe up the core of her and Karen squirmed and swore at the ceiling. Her breast was abandoned so his fingers could probe, finding her entrance a trove of slickness. 

Frank cupped his lips around her clit, his tongue pushing the entire nub around in a maddening, circular frenzy that was causing her breath to stutter and her toes to flex as she rode the pleasure. He groaned against her clit as he pushed two fingers her to the last knuckle. Within a few minutes, his fingers had worked her into a frenzy as well and Karen was propped up on her elbows again, head thrown back as she keened and ground her hips down onto him. 

The only way for her to mark the time was the build of pleasure she cried out and the gathering of sweat all over her body. Frank's skin was hot to the touch, moist with effort. The pressure was building and a deeper shaking started in her thighs. Karen started to beg, herself, Frank, God, whoever. 

"Please oh please oh – _OH, fuck_ ," She shrieked as her orgasm unexpectedly crashed over her, coming from a deep place, clenching tightly around the fingers of Frank's hand that did not stop moving. She saw shades of orange and reds behind her eyes as Frank's tongue wiggled her clit throughout and she jerked within his grasp. 

Finally, Karen lay on the bed gasping for air as Frank sat back on his heels, wiping his entire lower face. Karen let out a drunken, hazy giggle and received a dazzlingly coy grin in return. If he looked pleased with the pants, he was thrilled now and moved as if he was drunk himself when he stood and undid his belt. 

Karen smiled and started to sit up, beckoning him to her but he shook his head once as she reached for his fly. He popped the button and dropped the zipper, revealing a pair of form fitting black boxer briefs when he stepped out of the pants. She could see how hard the situation was for him; the purple head of his cock was pressing through the freedom slit at the front of the underwear. A small, darker black circle decorated it and Karen found herself biting her lip as she took it in, eyes noting the cut lines that pointed desperately to his groin. He hooked his thumbs into the band and the boxers fell as well. His erection sprung free, hard and veined and thicker than she would have assumed. The nest of black hair that backdropped a healthy set of balls was trimmed, utilitarian and functional. All this sat atop thighs that were generously roped with muscle and furred with hair.  

She was forced to scoot backwards as he crawled towards her again, the bed dipping under his weight with her seemingly trapped in the middle of the trench. 

"You're so beautiful, and this is... I'm not going to last through that," He explained of her reciprocation apologetically. He loomed over her, moving the hair from her forehead and brushing her lips with his. 

"I'd rather this," Karen whispered back to him, lifting her chin to catch his kiss as she wrapped her arms over his shoulders. The inside of her leg slid along the outside of his until she hooked her leg over his rear and pulled him closer. 

They both groaned at the contact, his length against her sodden center. He pumped his hips and Karen wiggled hers and she gasped as he almost slid in. Frank kissed her as he angled his hips again and swallowed her moan as he joined, sliding into her completely. He filled her in a way that felt breathtakingly satisfying and she circled herself around his girth. 

Frank released her mouth to swear into her shoulder, kissing the spot and starting to pump his hips. The movement elicited a symphony of sighs, moans and groans from Karen as they moved together. Her hands ran down the length of his back, feeling the flex and bunch of his body as he worked in her. He didn't move with abandon, instead setting a steady but just-slow-enough pace that he was still engaged in nuzzling her breasts and sucking on her nipples. Karen moved between huffs and whimpers, echoing Frank's breathy _huh-huh_ in rhythm with his thrusts. 

She did her best to meet his movements with her own, the heel of her hooked leg digging into the hard round of his bottom and the ball of her foot rubbing languidly up and down the back of his other calf. Sweat beaded in the divot along his spine and Karen's fingers swiped through it as she gently raked her nails over his skin and murmured encouragement into the column of his neck, crying out when he hit an overly-sensitive spot. Time slid by as they slipped against each other, trailing lips and questing hands until Frank's movements started to come harder and faster. He grunted almost as if in pain and met Karen's eyes. 

"It's okay. It's okay, yes, come on," Karen chanted through her kiss-stung lips as she reached up to cup the back of his neck with both hands. Frank cursed and lifted himself, sliding out of her and using his left hand to continue to stroke himself while he groaned into the join of her neck and shoulder. 

"Mmmm," Karen hummed contentedly, feeling the hot spurts of his orgasm gather between them on her stomach. After a few moments of panting, Frank emitted a rough, rumbly chuckle from where he'd buried his face and Karen grinned at the ceiling, giddy. 

With a small grunt, Frank gingerly lifted himself off of her and padded across the room. She took the opportunity to admire how his butt bunched and relaxed as he walked, the movement always hidden by his cargo pants. He ran water and fixed himself at the sink before returning to the bed with a cloth that steamed in the dim orange light. Flicking his eyes sheepishly up at her to find her watching, he applied the warm cloth to her stomach and proficiently swiped away the mess. He made sure to get everything, folding the cloth and running his hand over her belly after. He lowered his head and gently kissed it before turning and tossing the cloth back into the sink basin. 

Karen stretched on the bed, pressing her breasts to the sky and flexing her toes and felt him watching her. When she relaxed and smiled at him, he huffed a laugh and shook his head slowly as he ambled up the bed again and reached down to pull the rumpled blankets from under her butt. 

"What?" She asked, lifting her hips for him and his small smile turned into a rueful grin. 

"The next time you're going on about what people do and don't deserve, I'm gonna remember this," He told her and Karen rolled her eyes, scooting to the other side of the bed as he laid down. He lifted his arm and instinctively she settled on his chest, ear pressing just above his nipple so she could hear the rumble of his breath. 

"Maybe you don't deserve me but I deserve you," Karen said after a minute, seriousness starting to creep into her voice. 

"Yeah? Angels are punished when they fall and all that? Horseshit," Frank replied confidently, positioning himself more comfortably, Karen's head bobbing on his chest as he sighed with satisfaction. She reached down, snagging the blankets and drawing them up over both of their quickly-cooling skin. 

"Frank?" She asked once she'd settled and he grunted a reply, eyes closed and face slack. 

"What were you doing in my apartment?" 

He didn't move save for a slow exhale and as she craned her neck she saw that his eyes had only opened half way. He swallowed and said, "Leo wants you to come too." 

Karen jerked her head up, looking at Frank with wide eyes. 

"Where? When did you talk to her?" 

He made a face and pulled her back down against him. 

"Dinner on Sunday. Nothing clandestine – easy," He told her and it was Karen's turn to laugh. Her instinct was to drop Frank off and go home, not go inside for tea and cookies. The irony of what she'd said to him versus what was now expected of her was not lost on her, so she lay her cheek against his warm skin and thought deeply before sighing again. Frank was quickly falling asleep, his breathing coming deeper and steadier, his face relaxing further in slumber. She smiled gently and traced her fingers over the build and fall of his pec, ending with a gentle kiss. 

"Fine. Sunday." 

Frank let out a soft snore. After a few minutes, Karen allowed herself to slip into darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU DID IT! 
> 
> I know I originally had this set as 5 chapters but this chapter was too long and had too much going on to wrap the story too, so there will be one more fluffy feel-good chapter to tie up my loose ends - I'll post it tomorrow and then that's it for us and this story! 
> 
> Full disclosure: I generally write sex scenes from the male's POV (even though I am of the female variety) and I'm also not that great at writing tender, romantic love making (hard fucks, holla) so this was a challenge for me. If anything seems ooky or weird, that's why and I wanna know about it! Hit me up.


	6. The End

As soon as Karen cut the engine, the muffled sounds of the residential neighborhood cut in. 

The house they had parked in front of had a middle-aged man, red cheeked in the chill, struggling with a tangled set of lights while two boys roamed the yard yelling. 

A young family was unpacking from a car, the doorway of the house they were visiting filled by Grandparents. Frank and Karen sat, poker faced in the impending darkness. The sun was going down and the sharp orange-yellow of the sunset bled into a deep, sapphire blue in the cloudless sky. The day had been painfully bright, sharp and filled with paperwork and interviews and lawyer meetings for Karen.

While lunch with Foggy had been fundamentally less painful than she'd thought, she was pretty raw from everything she'd had to relive sitting there having a beer with him in a skunky bar. 

Now they were both balls of trepidation and anxiety. 

"It's uh, that one," Frank said as he jerked his hand across the street from them. The house was cute, nicely painted and had neat edges to the lawn. It was evident the children that lived there were older – one basketball hoop in the driveway and a pink scooter leaned up against the side of the garage. Light shone gently through the gauzy curtains in the windows. 

"I still think you should go first. I have to make one last phone call to Ellison, so. It'll be easier if we don't show up together either," Karen told him and pulled her phone out of her pocket so she didn't have to look him in the eyes while she lied. In truth, panic was clawing its way up her chest like a cat in well and she wanted the time to breathe in the car. Her mind was skipping and frog-leaping over itself – would she and this Sarah get along? This David man, he'd cornered and scared Frank at one point should she also be worried about him? If the daughter, Leo, was a fraction as fierce as her father then Karen could see why he would be friends with Frank. Did she really want to be involved in this? 

Her main goal had been to deliver Frank to the people he needed most and who most needed him. He looked at her a long moment, searching her eyes before he nodded once and got out of the car. The door swung shut and Karen was careful to light up her phone and press it to her ear. She covered her face with her free hand and exhaled noisily. 

"What are you doing Karen, what are you doing. What are we doing," She whispered to herself over and over, thinking furiously. Her mind trying to create a T table of pros and cons as she realized that she was now one of those people who both needed and was needed by Frank Castle. As much as she wanted to stay in one spot, she could feel herself transcending worlds and associates, like a wraith through a wall. She sat there for almost a minute, not making any progress in her panic. 

The passenger door opened suddenly and Karen shrieked as a girl climbed into the passenger seat, clomping the door shut and hissing, " _Ssshhh_ _!_ " 

Karen panted through the ebb of her scare, hand planted firmly on her chest and pressed against the driver door. She glared at Leo, eyebrows pulled together. 

"You scared the _crap_ out of me!"

"That's fine – watch," Leo said as she twisted in the seat to look out the rear windows at the front door and stoop. Her face was lit up, mouth open and curled into a smile as she watched and Karen twisted in her own seat to follow her direction. 

Frank stood on the step, hands in the pockets of his jacket while talking tersely to a taller, more slender man with a mop of curly brown hair. The taller man, Karen assumed this was David, would reply to Frank slowly and moved his hand languidly and Frank's responses were full of tense shoulders and jerking his chin in various directions as he talked. They appeared to be having a very intense and not so friendly conversation. 

"This doesn't look good," Karen commented and Leo shifted beside her in a noise that sounded like a one-shouldered shrug. 

"The way my Dad said it, that's how they are. That's how Pete is," She told Karen and Karen almost looked at her to correct her on his true nature but stopped, realizing that 72 hours ago she would have agreed – that's exactly how Frank was. 

Now, she didn't agree at all. Frank was always changing. Just as she does. 

Finally, David pushed himself off the door frame and threw his long arms wide, forcing Frank into a hug he resisted at first and then returned.  


"How'd you find him?" Leo asked quietly and Karen looked at her in surprise. 

"Me? How did _we_ find him," Karen said and Leo rolled her eyes despite looking pleased with the inclusion. Karen looked out the window again, finding that David had retreated into the house and Frank was standing on the step looking at her in the car. As soon as she turned and met his eyes, even in the increasing dark she knew he saw her. 

He beckoned her with a wave and she sighed out loud in the car, nodding until he went inside. Karen turned, looking at Leo with a wistful expression. 

"It wasn't that hard. You had a piece, I had a piece. You got me your information and I went from there. I think that if you hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to find him and he would have completely disappeared," She explained as she smiled sadly at the preteen, who looked like she wanted to understand the emotions crawling across Karen's face.

They were quiet for a moment before Karen let out a small laugh, unbuckling her seat belt and getting out of the car. It seemed so simple for what actually had to be done, but there was no other way to phrase it. 

Leo nodded as she shut her door and said, "We just had to care enough to look." 

"Yeah," Karen sighed as they crossed the street and her car lock beeped, "All anyone wants is for someone to care."    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it everyone! It was lovely writing this for you! 
> 
> Big thanks to everyone who took the time to review and relate to this story and I hope this lived up to your expectations. I'll see you on my next story but fear not - if you're not done with me feel free to check out my other works of the same pairing. 
> 
> Bye!


End file.
